


Promised Forever

by timeywimeyhufflepuff



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, and rose a presh bby, in which tentoo is an awkward dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeywimeyhufflepuff/pseuds/timeywimeyhufflepuff
Summary: "The coat falls, forgotten, at her feet. He looks so much like her Doctor now; awkward, unsure, though now with a touch of helpless vulnerability. Same face. A bit more stubble, a whole lot more blue." This is all wrong - this isn't what she's been fighting for, this isn't how it was supposed to happen - but fate has a funny sense of humor, doesn't it? Rose/Tentoo.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I'm now obsessed with Doctor Who. I have no idea how that happened, but, it's a thing now so. No regrets.

The wind twists and curls through her hair, carrying with it whispered promises come undone. She knows she isn't alone, as she stands upon that beach, drenched sand squelching beneath her feet and waves hungrily lapping at her toes. But as the hum of the TARDIS fades into oblivion, as its oh so comforting and familiar blue paint melts into nonexistence, the emptiness that fills Rose is suddenly something she's never quite felt before. His name dies on her tongue with a pop, in its place burbling a desperate desire to scream, to shout, to yell profanities at the top of her voice until her cheeks turn red.

But nothing comes out. She merely stands there, for once stunned into complete silence.

He's left her. He's left her, and he isn't coming back.

It's different from the first time, she reflects, the shock from his leave slowly morphing into a low rising anger, bubbling up from the pit of her stomach. Stolen away by circumstance, she'd promised one thing to herself - just one thing only - and that was, _we'll meet again._ And she'd clung onto each and every syllable of those solitary three words; she'd worked on the Dimension Cannon until her fingers bruised purple, until exhaustion dragged down at her eyelashes, until her throat scratched raw from dehydration. Everything she'd worked towards, those long three years of heartache and pained determination -

It's not fair. He's always been making decisions on her behalf. What was her choice in all this? As if on cue rough fingers slip between her own, coarse skin folds perfectly into the palm of her hand, and she can't help but wince at the feel of his touch. She can't meet the eyes of the _Other_ Doctor. Not now. Not yet. Not while she's still angry, not when she's half certain she'll give him a slap worthy of Jackie Tyler's respect.

He doesn't say anything, and quietly she is grateful. Pinpricks of guilt blossom in her chest, and her lips tingle as she remembers how they'd kissed before, how she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him so close that she could feel his solitary heart beating against her own. How had _her_ Doctor felt, upon seeing that? Was that why he'd left, without so much as a goodbye? Her thoughts are clouded with doubt, confusion, hurt. It's only a tug at her hand from the other Doctor that jolts her back from her reverie.

She finally meets his gaze - and perhaps some part of her melts when she sees his adorably familiar dimples crinkle up in the beginnings of a hopeful smile, because she doesn't raise a hand to slap the grin off his face, much as she almost wants to. She doesn't return his smile however. She can't. Slowly the quirk on his lips falls, in its place a rising indecision scrawled across his features. He hesitates - then, almost as if expecting her to shove him away, he pulls her in close, burrows his nose into the wisps of her golden locks.

She freezes, muscles stiffening, and some part of her does want to back away. This is all wrong, this isn't what she's been fighting for, this isn't how it was supposed to happen - but she's tired, and her bones ache, and there's tears glistening silver on the shallow cusps of her cheek, and what she really needs now is his touch, because he feels just like _him,_ looks just like _him,_ and when she presses her arms around his neck and burrows her face into the crook of his shoulder, she realizes with a tinge of melancholy that he even smells like _him_ too. His suit is blue, however; a color the other him would never pick. And his voice now has a rough edge, an undeniably foreign undertone that rings strange in her ears.

He's _him_. But he's _not_. 

She's never been more confused before in her life.

* * *

The journey home is etched deep into every crevice of her brain as one of the most awkward events of her life; they're quiet, exceptionally so, and Jackie is the only one practically running her mouth for the entire five hour flight back to London. She's taken to it easily, Rose thinks, with a small twinge in a breast; to Jackie, this _is_ the Doctor, this is him in the very heart and flesh. Or maybe she doesn't care; maybe all that matters to her mother is that her daughter's back where she belongs, and if this new Doctor is the consolation prize, then so be it.

...She feels cruel, thinking that. Because she isn't a bad person - at least, Rose wouldn't count herself as one anyway. But this is all so new, all so fresh, and when she sneaks glances at this new Doctor, all she can think of is her old one. Gone now. Never coming back. It's still so hard for her to accept.

He's patient with her, and she's grateful for that. She needs time. A lot of time. Too much, perhaps. But he doesn't push himself in, doesn't grasp at her hand, and he seems to understand she needs her space. Half of her almost wants to fold her palm over his, and feel that coarse skin of his brushing against her own. But it's too soon. Her mind is consumed with thoughts of her other Doctor, of what he's doing right now, and she can't leave him behind; not now, not yet. It's too soon to move on.

She meets his eyes for the first time since those fateful few seconds in the cusps of Bad Wolf Bay. He's scared, she can tell; the furrow in his brow, the hesitation alight like flame in his milky brown orbs, and the deep set frown sketched upon his lips. She's not the only one who's been abandoned, she realizes, with a small jolt. He's been left here too. _"I can spend the rest of my life with you, if you want."_ Had he meant that? Was it uttered on a spur of the moment, just as her kiss had been? Is that even what _she_ wants?

Rose hates this; the indecisiveness, the uncertainty, the promise of an unavoidable future. At least with her Doctor she'd _known_ the life they'd planned - and it was mystical, it was beautiful, and it was so _bright._ She'd dreamed of it each and every night, for three years straight. It had haunted her mind day in day out, until it was all that consumed her thoughts.

Now an entirely different future paves its way forward, welcoming, but foreign.

Rose isn't entirely sure if it's a path she wants to take.

* * *

"He can stay here." Jackie's clipped tone is unusually warm, and Rose shoots her mum a grateful glance. He's nowhere to go, and she'd certainly have him over at her place, if he had nowhere else - but that feels a bit too big a step to take. They're still getting to know each other, still treading on eggshells. The Doctor makes a face at that, a decidedly familiar expression that Rose can't help but snort at, albeit fondly. "Though Lord knows, if you go about spewing that alien nonsense to my poor Tony, you'll be out in a jiffy! He doesn't need to hear about those creepy crawly tentacle woman, or whatever they were."

"Not _tentacle woman_ , Jackie," he says, exasperated; " _racnoss_. Terrible things, they were. Eight legs, awful manners. You should've seen the one I met. Could've done with a few lessons in etiquette. Though I'm sure meeting you would've been punishment enough -"

"Oi! What's 'dat supposed to mean?"

At once his hands spring up, as if he's already preparing for Jackie's trademark slap. "Nothing, nothing at all!" the Doctor flails, scooting around until he's found what he must assume is an adequately safe distance from her incoming wrath. "Just...you're a very impressive individual, Jackie, right! Very much so. If there's any human an alien would be scared of, it's you!" He throws her a grin, one that entirely says, _don't hit me, please?_ Jackie arches an eyebrow, but merely huffs out in annoyance.

"Lookit what I've got to live with," she mutters, as she makes her way back to the kitchen, pointedly leaving Rose and the Doctor alone in the silent comforts of the lounge. As soon as the door closes, Rose is all too aware of the Doctor's eyes scorching into her flesh; she almost begs the couch to swallow her whole, and instinctively sinks deeper back into its cool leather.

There's an elephant in the room - an unavoidable one, something she knows they're going to have to tackle sooner or later. "Rose -"

"So...staying with my mum." She cuts him off fast. Fingers curl around the breast of her cup, as she pulls it up to her lips and takes a small, distracting sip of tea. "Good luck with that," she jokes. "She'll have you for dinner, if you aren't careful."

The Doctor's brow furrows. She knows he wants to talk - _really_ talk. For a moment she's afraid he'll push his way through - but he merely relaxes back against his own couch, folds his arms neatly behind his neck and gives a mock snort of offense. " _Rose_. What kind of Timelord would I be if I were afraid of your own mother, of all things? We've faced much worse, haven't we?" He starts counting on one hand, his eyebrows knitted in concentration; "slitheen, sycorax, werewolves, daleks...Oh! Can't forget the cybermen now, can't we?"

She can't help it. That's such a Doctor thing to say. A small smile quirks up at her lips. It's gone a second later, but he doesn't miss it. "Was that a smile, Rose Tyler?"

She hides her lips behind her cup of tea, suddenly feeling like a foolish schoolgirl. "Nope," she mumbles, taking another gulp of her drink. The Doctor's grinning now, and he sends her a wink. Molten heat rushes white hot to her cheeks, and she has to glance away.

The quiet resumes. But it feels just that little bit more comfortable.

* * *

She practically has to drag him out by the lapels of his shirt the next week for clothes shopping. He's like a little child, she reflects, as she watches him grumble and moan about the racks of freshly ironed shirts and low hanging trousers. "How about this one?" he tries, pulling out a blue shirt by its hanger. He really likes blue, this Doctor does. She frowns; taps her chin.

"Maybe. Or..." She's in another aisle now, whisking through shirt after shirt, fingers ghosting over leather and cotton and polyester. Clothes shopping - something so very normal and human, really. When she'd used the Dimension Cannon for the first time, she thought she would be leaving such normality behind. It's not an unwelcoming situation however, as she and this Doctor idle about; they're still finding their feet around each other, or Rose is, mostly. A lot of the wall that exists barricaded between them is from her end, she thinks with a twinge. But, well, they're making do with the cards they've been dealt. They're _living_.

"Oh." Fingers touch sheen fabric, and the breath is stolen from her lungs as a warm and familiar brown tugs down at her eyes. _Oh_. Tears muddy the corners of her vision, because it's so like _him,_ almost exactly the same, save for a few extra buttons and a darker, ruddier hue. It's his coat, or at least, it's close enough. She slips it off its hanger, gives it one good, long look in the mirror.

"Oi, Rose! Found something even better! Come take a look, tell me what you think -" His words trail off as he sees her with the brown coat, fingers curled around its sleeves and fabric pressed close to her chest. She can't help it. She twirls around, excitement mingling with the fresh tears in her eyes.

"Doctor, look!" It's the first time she's used his name. He doesn't seem as ecstatic as she thought he might, however. "It's just like _his_ old one. Perfect, in't it?"

She doesn't realize her mistake until she sees the hurt in his eyes. She pauses, throat contracting, and at once she backpedals. "Oh...no, _your_ old one. I mean..."

"It's okay." He's doing that thing again; rakes one hand back through his mussy hair, the over shoved in his pockets as he rocks back on the balls of his feet. The guilt only builds at that, like bile rising in her chest. "It's a tricky situation. I get it. You need time. I'll just..."

The coat falls, forgotten, at her feet. He looks so much like her Doctor now; awkward, unsure, though now with a touch of helpless vulnerability. Same face. A bit more stubble, a whole lot more blue. She slings her arms around his neck, pulls him in slightly, until his forehead's resting against her own, tendrils of his brown hair clinging damp against his skin. "I'm sorry," Rose breathes, and she really is. It's not just been a tough time for her; this is difficult for both of them. "You're him. I know that, I do, it's just..."

_I'm just not sure if I can accept it._ Those words hang awkwardly in the air, unspoken but read by both. The Doctor steps back, untangles himself, and it's her turn to feel hurt. He glances back at the coat she'd dropped; there's something like wistfulness in his eyes, maybe even a tang of bitterness. "Do you want...?"

"Hm? Oh! No." She says it before she can even think. _No_ , she decides; _no, I'm not going to remind you of who you once were._ "No, I like blue." A slow grin spreads across his face at that. She can't help it. She smiles back.

"It suits you."

* * *

He's the same person, she decides. But... _different._

It's still difficult for her to wrap her head around it all, if she's being honest. After all, he has the Doctor's memories; remembers every single detail of their adventures together, and all that came before that, every moment in his long nine hundred years of life. But he's no longer the same man with two hearts and the stars and planets at his fingertips, no longer the man who could take her any place in time.

Rose doesn't mind that so much. She didn't fall in love with the Doctor because he had a _time machine_ of all things. No - she fell in love with him for _him_. Everything about him. The good and the bad. She's starting to accept it. Starting to accept that within this new entity are the things that really matter - just less _timey wimey_.

It's why she agrees to a date with him. Well, it was Jackie really; moaning and groaning about as she cooked a family dinner, fussed about how they'd be _"forty years old before they even got to first base."_ Oh, good ol' mum. After much spluttering on the Doctor's half, and eye rolling on Rose's, there was finally some unspoken agreement that had been reached - that being, _alright, we'll give it a shot._

Rose would normally be the one to take initiative in such situations. She can't say she's proud that it was her mother, of all people, to setup a date with the Doctor. But now it's happening, and she's surprised to find that she's actually rather excited. A knock at the door, and she's there in a flash, twisting it open to meet a rather fidgety Doctor pulling and tugging at the cuffs of his suit.

There's no romantic swing of flowers; no awkward fumbling or embarrassed stumbling. And that makes her happy - it's just like the Doctor, to storm his way in and flop down on her couch, annoyance alight in his eyes as he tugs one hand haphazardly back through his perfectly combed hair. "Rose, we need to talk about your mother. She's out of control!"

"Oh really?" Rose muses, slipping down beside him and pretending to give him a look of sympathy. "She's got you pretty domesticated, huh?"

He looks horrified at the mere mention of that word. "That's not even the half of it!" he splutters. "Look what she's done to me. Look what she's done to my _suit_."

"Poor you," Rose drones, unable to keep the amusement from her tone. He's immaculate - shaved, combed, ironed. And he's looking positively _terrified_. "C'mon. Mum's only trying to make you look nice. If you had your way, you wouldn't shower for a week."

He sniffs. "What's wrong with that?"

Rose puts one hand over where his solitary heart drums a rhythmic beat, and gives him a playful shove back against the couch. "Half human, remember? Sorry to tell ya, but humans sweat. _A lot_."

The Doctor grimaces. "Not sure how I feel about that. Add that to the list then - hair, sweat, stubble, wrinkles, flus...How do you humans do it, Rose? You spend your whole day taking care of these inferior bodies, and the next you have to do it all over again." He sighs at that, a long and tired sound. Rose can't help but feel real sympathy for him now; she knows he's struggling, knows he's still adapting to a body so unlike his old one. Silence falls over both of them, though it's the comforting sort. She knows they're supposed to be going out for dinner (Jackie insisted of course) but suddenly Rose just can't be buggered. Here on the couch, in the dim light of evening, with the Doctor's steady breath at her side...

"You look beautiful, by the way." He scratches at the back of his neck, avoids her gaze, as if unsure on how she'll react. Rose bites down on her lower lip, unsure on how to reply herself.

Finally she says the first thing that pops in her mind. "You too."

He scoffs at that. "Rose. Not even _half_ Timelords are beautiful. Dashing, charming, princely - maybe. But beautiful? I should be offended -"

She doesn't know why. But suddenly her eyes are on his lips, and he's looking very kissable right about now. Three years. Three years of longing to see his face again, hear his voice, and now here he is in the flesh, babbling on with that tongue of his just as she remembers. He's a bit different now; says _"oi!"_ a bit too much, has a strange penchant for the color blue, and his voice is rougher, though not in an unwelcome way. But he's here; he's here now, and she can touch him, feel him, see and hear him, and maybe that's why she crashes her lips against his own, because it's been so long since they've done so, and hell he even tastes like _him._ He is him; she allows herself to finally believe that as he melts into the embrace, and her fingers immediately go to his scalp, run back against his messy mop of brown hair. She can't help but take a small inkling of satisfaction in the groan that action produces.

They're both humans though, and soon they have to break apart, heaving for breath. There's that familiar dopey smile on his face, and she thinks there must be something similar painted upon her lips too. "You're my Doctor," she says, unable to keep the tears from her voice.

He hums at that. "Weeelll. I'd like to think I'm him, and so much more," he adds cheekily, one thumb coming up to caress at her cheek.

It's no crime if they're late, right?

* * *

They decide to take it slow.

Rose would be lying if she said that some large chunk of her heart didn't remain in the past; after all, how could she forget the Doctor with the starlit twinkle in his eyes, the Doctor with the whole expanse of universe at his finger tips? _Her lonely God_. Out there alone now. She hopes he's found someone to share such beauty with by his side; hopes he has another companion to explore the galaxies with. Some selfish part of her pangs at the thought of another human taking what was once her place. But he deserves happiness.

...They both deserve happiness.

"I've got a surprise for you." It's late, and the city is alight with the orange embers of the street lamps, and the raucous cheer of teens gone wild. They're back at Pete's house, a mansion of polished white stone and perfectly trimmed hedges, a place that Rose is certain she'll never get used to. She's never been one for the high life, much as her mum has taken to such an existence like a bird to the wind; no, she'll be at her modest apartment any day, simple and admittedly bare, but reeking of the warm and familiar comforts of home.

It's been two months since they were left on Bad Wolf Bay. Two long months of confusion, hurt, anger, frustration - and, admittedly, healing. Because he's by her side now. Her _other_ lonely God. Funny, how she now has two of them that she loves.

Rose quirks up an eyebrow at him, curiosity smoldering in her eyes. "What's it this time? Don't tell me - you messed with the security system again?"

"That was one time, Rose! And honestly, I don't see what the big deal was. I thought it was an improvement."

"'M not sure I'd call it that," she teases, giving him a playful jab in the ribs. "I dunno, a power outage that bad..."

He spins on the balls of his feet, and that familiar spark of enthusiasm is dancing across his face. "Oh, that's besides the point! C'mon, you'll love it, I swear!" He holds out his hand for her to take, and there's hope in his eyes now, bright and radiant and inviting. The stars flare overhead, silver pinpricks splashed upon a sheet of ink black, and some part of her aches for the Doctor of the other world, for the man so many light years away. She's here though, and _this_ Doctor is waiting for her.

She takes his hand.

"Run," he grins.

So she does.

* * *

They explode into the mansion's basement with a volley of laughter; the Doctor presses a finger to his lips, though the smile remains clear as day upon his lips, and try as Rose might she can't stifle the giggles flowing through her lips. "Shh," he whispers, twisting on his heels as one hand flies to scrabble for the light switch, the other fiddling about in his front suit pocket. "If your mum sees what I'm doing down here she'll positively kill me."

"Her right too," Rose says, finally following his lead and lowering his voice down to a hushed tendril of a thread. "What've you gone and done this time? Is it alien? Torchwood'll kill you if it's alien."

Finally giving up on his desperate search for the light, he instead plucks out his Sonic Screwdriver with a fantastical flourish and proudly twirls it about between his fingers. "Alien - yes, maybe, I won't deny that. Oh, I don't know if they'd have it in 'em to kill me though. Maybe get their fingers on my organs; dissection, blood tests, all that good stuff. Pick at my brain a bit, your Torchwood would love that, wouldn't they?"

Rose rolls her eyes, bumps roughly into his shoulder as she moves past him. "I told you, they're not like that. They're different from the other place. _I_ think -" she pushes back at his chest a little, a wry smile on her lips - "you'd make a good addition to the team. Y'know a thing or two about aliens, don'tcha?"

He hums at that. That's still something they're in disagreement about - he's got to get a job sometime, he can't just keep leeching off her mum and Pete, and Rose can't even begin to imagine her Doctor sticking it out in some boring office. She's about to argue with him on the subject further, but he's pointedly wandered off, his Sonic Screwdriver flashing a bright light in the darkest corners of the basement as it scans, and suddenly Rose remembers just why he's brought her here. "So what's the surprise?"

"You'll see," he mumbles, voice distant. He disappears around a corner; there's some shuffling, a muttered curse as a wall of boxes comes tumbling to the floor. He appears not a moment later, a dopey grin slapped upon his face. "Alright-y then! Come have a peek!"

She doesn't know what she's expecting, as she rounds the corner and comes to stand at his side. The Doctor's fidgeting about, impatient, practically balancing on the balls of his feet; his gaze is fixed on something small hidden within the depths of the murky shadows, barely bigger than a potted plant, but so familiar in its shape, and distinctly blue.

"A TARDIS," she breathes, and the words taste foreign upon her tongue, strange and beautiful and twisted, and she has to nip at her lip to remind herself she's not dreaming. Because there it is - small and half formed and still with a whole lot more growing to do, but its taken shape, wispy silver tendrils of what must be remnants of the coral curling up its side and clinging to its flesh like vines made of light. "I thought...I mean - those take thousands of years to grow, don't they?"

"Hmm, usually," the Doctor concedes, with a dip of his chin. He leans down, fingers just ghosting near where his ship now grows, as if he longs to feel its wood beneath his skin again. Rose doesn't miss the clear longing in his brown eyes. "But a wise woman once told me all I needed to know on how to _'accelerate the growth by the power of 59.'"_ He throws her a grin at that, but Rose isn't smiling; her jaw is slack, lips agape. The Doctor's brow furrows as he straightens himself up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just..." Rose glances away. The breath snags sharp in her throat, and she can't keep the quiver from her tone when she says, "but this means...you'll be off again, right? Traveling the galaxies, saving the universe?"

He frowns. "Well I mean, not all the time. We'll still have to pop back in every now and then to see your mum. Can't say she'd be too happy with me if I took her only daughter out gallivanting across the stars, and next thing you know, we've missed Christmas. No, we can't have that!" He rubs at his cheek, a snort escaping his flared nostrils. "Don't think I'm too keen on getting slapped by Jackie Tyler again, no-sir-ee."

But Rose doesn't hear that last part. He said _we. We._ Maybe that's all she needs, because suddenly she's got her arms around his neck and she's dragging him down for the snog of a lifetime. Her hands scratch back over his scalp, his fingers mess with the buttons of her shirt, and she thinks, _weren't we supposed to be taking it slow?_ But then she feels the coarse skin of his palm fluttering up beneath her shirt, and she melts, and she's _his._

Two months is long enough, anyway.

* * *

They're like an old married couple, Jackie says.

And, well, Rose can't exactly refute that.

It's taken a while, but slowly they've slipped back into a familiarly old and comforting routine; the teasing, the friendship, the solid building blocks of a budding romance firm beneath their feet. It's the little things that count, really. The way he looks at her when she messes with her phone, or fiddles with her hair; and the way she laughs with him when he says something so irrefutably _Doctor._ They've changed so much over the years - or Rose has, anyhow. This Doctor, well, he was born from a hand and a sprinkling of a woman with hair as red as flame. There's bound to be a few differences in him, too.

It's not all sunshine and roses. Rarely is, if she's being honest. They don't have the TARDIS for the time being, so life has settled into its usual, mundane routine. She works at Torchwood, he provides his assistance when need be. He refuses to take a job there, mutters on about how he's far too preoccupied with managing the upkeep of his growing TARDIS and keeping Tony in high spirits. (He's become a bit of an idol to that young boy, with his fantastical tales of creepy crawly aliens and planets where the grass shines red. Jackie's far from impressed, to say the least.)

Still, though his dislike for the organization is no secret, the Doctor accepts her high position there - even if it does sometimes get his feathers in a bit of a ruffle.

No relationship is perfect, and nowhere does it become more apparent then when they're on their own, without the threat of alien attack or danger snapping hot at their heels to distract them from it all. Quiet nights when her sleep is haunted by a man she can never find; boring days when he is taunted by the shining gleam of the sun, and a sky that has never been more faraway. They squabble, bicker, there's moments when they doubt - but they always find each other again, in the misty haze of morning and in sheets of soft silk and pink.

They're a team. A bloody damn good one, as Jackie would so eloquently put it.

Rose and the Doctor think so too.

* * *

"So! All of time and space at your fingertips! Where do you want to go first?"

He's excited. She is too. Their bags are packed, tossed halfheartedly in the corner, and the familiar hum of the TARDIS echoes throughout a chamber emblazoned gold. Rose can't hold in a grin, as the Doctor twirls his way about the control panel, flicking switches and slamming buttons and typing in coordinates to who knows where. She feels nineteen again, ready for adventure, ready for that familiar trill of adrenaline to sing through her veins.

"Hmm...why don't you surprise me?" she says, and flashes him her trademark smile, the tip of her tongue just poking out between her teeth.

He nods, a similar grin on his own lips. "Thought you'd never ask!" One hand shoves up at a leaver, the other slams hard into a glowing red button. The TARDIS jolts and Rose has to lean back against the console to steady herself, as the ship picks up in a steady, vibrating hum, tremors of vibrations rolling below her feet. "Be prepared, Rose Tyler!" the Doctor cries, and she's never seen him look so alive before in his life. There's that starlit twinkle she loves so much, flaring bright in his dark brown eyes again. "Rose Tyler and the Doctor's TARDIS! No, no - the Doctor and his wife's TARDIS. Ah, hardly a good ring to it at all. Oh, how about, the Doctor and Rose Tyler, in the TARDIS, together."

"As it should be," she replies warmly.

"As it should be," he repeats, still wearing that manic grin befitting of a mad Doctor such as himself. All too quickly he jumps back, spins on the balls of his heels, just as the TARDIS gives one great, reverberating shiver. "Now then! Allons-y!"

"Allons-y!" Rose cries, laughing so hard that tears roll down her cheeks, and she relishes in the distinct feeling of leaving their world behind, of the grumble and groan and flash as they enter the Time Vortex.

The Doctor and Rose Tyler, in the TARDIS, together. Just as it should be.

* * *

He takes her to the place they'd promised each other to all those many years ago.

The sky still shines a flaming orange, the sun still burns a fierce red. There's a whistle and low, deep throbbing hum as the creatures float above, giant manatee-like beasts with a song so beautifully mournful that it brings tears to Rose's eyes.

She remembers the first time they'd come to this planet. Before the ghosts; before Canary Wharf; before the Dimension Cannon. When life was simple, and their future endless.

Now they do have a time limit, she reflects. This Doctor will age and decay. But so will she.

She realizes now that her original Doctor did indeed keep his promise. Just not in the way they'd expected. Her lonely God, cursed to live an existence so unfair and cruel. A piece of her heart will always belong to him, wherever he is.

But now this Doctor's hand curls around her own. She nestles into his side, head coming to rest upon the frame of his shoulder. He smiles, gives her fingers a gentle squeeze.

"How long are you going to stay with me?" he asks.

There's no hesitation in her voice when she replies.

"Forever."


End file.
